


Dark Rhythm

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Hypnotism, Leather Kink, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Samara arrives, Morinth shows Shepard what she has to offer. Is it Shepard's fantasy? Or Morinth's?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt to write a hypno mind-fuck involving leather and lace. Also a shameful auto-fill for the kink meme:  
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=43505563#t43505563

“Tell me you want me. You'll kill for me. Anything I want,” said Morinth in a low hypnotic tone, her eyes black, biotic energy crackling across her skin. She reached out to take Shepard's cheek in her hand.

Shepard's vision tunnelled down to two pools of black on a blue background. It felt like she was fainting, although she didn't feel any nausea. The thrum of her heart seemed at once loud in her ears, but coming from somewhere far away, a booming Niagara just out of sight. Her lips felt rubbery and huge and were moving now, although she hadn't meant to open her mouth. “Anything you want,” she heard, in a voice that sounded like her own, but louder, slower, devoid of feeling, like the words were spoken by an automaton.

Her vision went completely black. There was a sensation of speed, and of currents of air surrounding her, tickling at her skin, but never settling on a particular direction. As if she was in the midst of a thousand invisible butterflies, carrying her away.

Now there was light coming from somewhere, because Shepard could see herself. All around was plain blackness, lacking in any depth or point of reference. But she could see her arm, her boots when she looked down, uniformly lit, no shadows in evidence. She was dressed as she always was.

“We have a little time to ourselves, here,” came a voice from behind her. Shepard turned to see Morinth sauntering towards her across the blackness. She wasn't apprehensive. She felt no need for confrontation, or flight.

“You won't feel any of that here,” said Morinth. “This is... a neutral place. We can talk, until she arrives.”

Shepard remembered. Samara would be coming soon, to kill Morinth. Her own daughter. How did Shepard feel about that? She didn't know. She thought it would be something terrible to have to do. But she didn't feel it. It was a clinical knowledge. She found her voice. “What is this?”

“A place where we can see things clearly.” Morinth did not elaborate further, waiting for Shepard to continue.

“You're inside my head,” said Shepard. She recalled her last discussion with Samara. “Are you going to kill me? Why aren't I afraid?”

“I only take what people want to give me,” said Morinth. “And the fact is... I can't defeat her alone.”

Shepard considered this. “You're asking for my help?”

“I'm making you an offer,” came the reply. “Take me instead.”

Shepard understood what she meant without it being verbalised. Morinth would take Samara's place. “Why should I do that?” asked Shepard.

Morinth turned away from her, walking at a normal pace, but somehow she receded quickly, as if the space between them was stretching and becoming thin. Shepard blinked.

\---

She awoke slowly, the dawn light filtering through the shutters in bright bands that illuminated the bedroom wall. She was thirsty. She rose from the bed, naked, and went to the kitchen to find water. Her armor stood in a glass cabinet that divided the kitchen from the living area. She regarded it without a trace of nostalgia. It had been a long time since she had needed that, she thought, as she drained a glass.

Morinth reclined in the living area, dressed in her usual black. As Shepard approached she rose smoothly. She took Shepard in her arms and kissed her, the way she liked it, short but intense. Shepard closed her eyes, letting the sensations, as fresh now as they had been the first time, transport her.

\----

“You will not need underwear,” said Morinth. As she removed the last items of clothing, Shepard found that she wasn't embarrassed to be naked in front of Morinth. She was proud of her body.

She stepped into a pair of boots that Morinth offered her. Soft, supple brown leather, with a plain flexible sole, she could see the outlines of her toes through them. They were laced up the back from heel to just below the knee. Morinth busied herself pulling the laces tight and knotting them firmly. Shepard was content to stand there while she did this, although the elaborate knotwork took some time to complete.

Next Morinth gave her long gloves that reached to her elbow. Made of the same leather, Shepard could barely feel it between her fingers, it was so thin and flexible. It contoured perfectly around her digits, not quite stretching, but not impeding movement either. Again, the gloves were closed by a pattern of knots, a leather lace looping through subtle eyelets that ran up from the inside of her wrists to her elbows. To Shepard it looked as if Morinth was tying knots that were insubstantial, nothing a sailor would ever use, yet they held the gloves firmly in place. She couldn't comprehend the pattern that Morinth was weaving, but she could certainly appreciate its beauty. She held her arms out, one after the other, until it was done. She wondered if the backs of her calves were adorned with a similarly elegant motif.

Shepard stretched her back, stood on her tiptoes and rolled her neck around, flexing her muscles and feeling the leather gloves and boots stretch around her extremities. She knew somehow that the next part was her favourite, although this was the first time. She took a deep breath in anticipation. Morinth instructed her to lift one foot, then the other. She drew up the garment around Shepard's legs, over her muscular thighs, to nestle comfortably between her legs. Shepard felt a familiar thrill at the intimate contact. Morinth pulled it up over her rounded backside to her narrow waist, reinforcing the feeling. 

Shepard let Morinth guide her arms through the short sleeves one at a time. Then she held perfectly still for the best part. Morinth began at the base of her spine, pulling the leather lacing tight one step at a time, knotting and reknotting as she went. The leather body of the outfit grew gradually tighter around her waist, the soft brown leather conforming to her defined abdominal muscles at the front as it was pulled tight around the back. As Morinth worked her way up, her breasts were caught and lifted, held firmly in place. The leather tightened under her arms. Morinth finished off at the neckline, just below the nape of Shepard's neck. 

The short sleeves were of a delicate lace that felt like air but echoed the intricate knotwork. The smooth matt leather body conformed to Shepard's admirable contours, the upper part spreading out from her waist into a light skirt that hung at the middle of her thigh, while underneath the skirt it enclosed her completely in comfortable, close fitting briefs. As the final knot was pulled tight, Shepard felt an uncontrollable frisson of pleasure. She felt secure, and powerful. 

Morinth had a final addition, a simple inch-wide band of supple leather that she fastened around Shepard's neck. Morinth stood close behind her, and ran her hands down the front of her costume, feeling the way the leather stuck tightly to her hard body. Shepard couldn't help but become aroused, her nipples poking at their confinement, wetness gathering within her. Morinth reached down and pulled a concealed dangling strap from under the front of the skirt through her legs to fasten it just above her buttocks. A firm tug, and it tightened, sending a jolt of pleasure through Shepard that had her biting her lip and bending forward, her arms out for balance. She closed her eyes for a moment to experience the feelings more completely.

\---

The world was spinning and her fist was poised at the end of her arm, wound up and ready to strike. Her skirts flew around her, revealing thighs that shone with exertion and a distinct dampness to her crotch for all to see. Her fist connected with its intended target, a regrettably pretty face, her arm following through to drive the point home, the rest of her body carrying the momentum of her spinning leap adding to the weight of the knockout blow. Her opponent crumpled as she landed, one foot forward, her guard already up, ready to take on the next assailant. 

A punch to the gut brought the next one down low enough that she could use her knee, twisting on her back foot to piston it up into his chin, her abs clenching and her upper body rotating as she brought all her strength to a focus in space and time. The delicious strap across her crotch pulled taut as she completed the move, his eyes rolling up before he even hit the ground. 

She moved onto the third who was backing away fearfully, stalking towards her with her head lowered, her eyes burning through her red mane, a skip in her step making her timing impossible for her enemy to predict. Her skirts fluttering around her as her thighs kicked forwards, her biceps taut and ready, she half-circled her target, feinted, and caught her as she scampered, panicked, in the wrong direction. Quickly wrapping her in an arm-lock, Shepard threw her to the ground, straddled her, and snapped her neck casually.

Rising, she grinned fiercely and returned to Morinth, who was looking on from the opening of the alley, where they shared a salty kiss, Morinth pulling her in and groping between her legs. Shepard's eyelids fluttered as the intense feelings that Morinth was always able to draw out of her coursed through her. There really was nothing like a good killing.

\---

She was in her prime, the best condition she'd ever been in physically, the happiest she had ever been. That was the day Morinth chose to take her, finally, after so long winding her up, bringing her so close each time only to deny her. But the frustration had been a delight, a kind of freedom. Morinth had been in charge of all that. She hadn't had to worry about anything other than being herself, her true self. That was all that Morinth had wanted. For her to fulfill her potential. She had let her do that, unencumbered by duty or compromise.

Shepard knew it was to be today. As Morinth laced her lovingly into her leather outfit for the last time, pulling the knots to the beautiful edge between discomfort and delight, yanking on the strap so that tears came to her eyes, Shepard felt nothing but elation. She was a beautiful, perfect thing. Morinth had made her. Morinth deserved her. As they kissed for the last time, Morinth's biotics crackling, one hand between her legs and one on her cheek, Shepard felt herself grow hot, luminous, radiant, until finally...

\---

Shepard's cheek stung from a slap. She opened her eyes. She lay on the couch in Morinth's apartment. Her face felt sticky. She was a mess. She looked up.

“She nearly had you, Shepard,” said Samara. “Fortunately I arrived just in time.”

“Did you...” began Shepard. “Did I...?” She looked around. Morinth lay dead. She would never know how much of it had been Morinth's dark temptation and how much her own fantasy.

“Do not feel ashamed, Shepard. She was very skilled. Very powerful. She hunted with her mind as much as her body,” Samara said. “I do not know what she showed you. But I am glad that you resisted.”

Shepard knew she could never admit how close she had come. She composed herself mentally, compartmentalising, organising, the rational soldier taking over. “Alright. Do you need some time?” she asked.

“No, Shepard,” replied Samara. “I would leave this place. These memories will haunt me as it is.”

“Then I'll see you back at the Normandy,” said Shepard. “I'll see to the arrangements here.”

Shepard spent a few moments looking at the Morinth's corpse. So much beauty, anger, and power. It was a seductive, but ultimately worthless combination, Shepard knew. Pleasure was nothing without responsibility. Still. She found what she was looking for in the wardrobe and bundled it up. A girl can dream, she thought to herself, closing the apartment door behind her and not looking back.


End file.
